


woozy (NSFW)

by eratothemuse



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, NSFW, Oral Sex, Smut, not safe for work, summer being HOT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22198807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eratothemuse/pseuds/eratothemuse
Summary: That summer, the air conditioning in your apartment breaks. Funny, how such a simple thing could result in a domino effect, sending you tumbling into the sweltering haze that was more than just getting caught in the midst of one of the hottest heat waves New York had ever seen.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Original Female Character(s), Peter Parker/Reader, Peter Parker/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 234
Collections: Peter Parker Is Everything





	woozy (NSFW)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I was in the middle of writing for Ransom Drysdale when I literally was forced at gunpoint to write this. Oops! It’s porn without plot! My bad!

##  _**woozy**_ **☼** _ **NSFW**_

Photo sources: [1](https://yourjamesbuckybarnes.tumblr.com/post/189935861906) | [2](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fpin%2F348888302382793325%2F%3Flp%3Dtrue&t=OGE4YmMwMjk4MzFkMjNhMmEwNzI2N2E4NzNiNDUwYTVkZTQ0ZGJiYixCam5Ja1dOcw%3D%3D&b=t%3AuNoi0AujsProexVbD5JsWA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fthranduilsperkybutt.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190179391913%2Fwoozy-nsfw-photo-sources-1-2-pairings&m=0)

* * *

The only sound was your breathing, and the whir of the air conditioner in the window. The drift of the cold air, barely enough to quench you. It was so hot— had been for a week, now.

Yesterday, your own AC had gone out, leaving you suffering through the night. The slick, stickiness of sweat and the drag of exhaustion that came with the heat had left you descending the fire escape in the midday sun. Sent you knocking on Peter Parker’s window. You knew better, than to be left alone with him, but the heat and the temptation of his contrastingly cool apartment had muddied your senses.

His name parts your lips now, whine cutting through the drudge of the heat to meet the buzzing fan above your head, as your fists bunch his sheets. He drags his chuckle, and his teeth along your inner thigh. You were dizzy.

Peter had still been in his pajama bottoms, but his endearing _find x_ t-shirt had already been abandoned on the floor, long before you came knocking. His lips, wrapped around a half-eaten, melting popsicle. The heat wave had soaked through, even to his apartment, and the sweat on his brow, the curl in his hair, gave it away before you stepped one foot inside his bedroom.

You squirm, pushing up the bed with your bare feet, in an attempt to get away when it all becomes too much— when his tongue between your thighs has you arching from the bed. It’s futile, because his hands catch behind your knees, tugging you back down with a force one wouldn’t expect from a boy of his size, if they didn’t know the truth about him like you did.

“ _Peter_ ,” it sounds desperate, hoarse, and all you can think is how thirsty you are. How wonderful his fingers curling into you feel. Your head is spinning, and you can hardly breathe. It’s suffocating, even with the breeze from the fan, and you’re about to break.

How long had he been torturing you? Hours, it felt like, though you were sure it was closer to half of one. The drowsy, sluggish lull of the summer urged you onward, slowly taking your time working each other over and back again. You had your own fun, but Peter was sure doing a number on you.

He drags the pads of his fingertips within you leisurely, tongue laving against your clit, intense— he can hear the race of your pulse, feel the quiver of your thighs. You bite the back of your hand, to keep from screaming, when he curls them and brushes the most pleasurable depths of you. A strangle in your throat, as liquid fire rushes down your spine, exploding hot behind your eyelids.

The boy was good at this, probably more than he knew. It made him dangerous.

He groans softly, and pushes up from between your knees, draping himself over you as he draws sloppy, open-mouthed kisses up your abdomen. Sweat drips down his chest, just like you can feel it stripe down the back of your knees.

You reach, pulling him from where he reaches the underside of your breast, tugging him the rest of the way to meet your lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue and the sweetness of the sugary popsicle, feeling the slip of his hands up your rib cage, as your own nails scrape down his back.

“ _Baby_ ,” he whispers to your skin, and when your eyes flutter open, you see the way his own chocolate irises have been nearly consumed by his pupils, his flush burning down his cheeks and chest. He still sounds almost embarrassed, when he confesses, “I _need_ to be inside you.”

Peter looks just as wrecked, as completely frazzled by the heat as you were. You let your hand smooth down his neck, over his chest, watching as his eyes flutter closed and a shuddering gasp slips past his reddened, kiss-bruised lips when your fingertips brush through the curls along his abdomen. His hips move, rocking into your touch, when you find the length of him straining against your core.

“I need it, too,” your own confession has him looking back down at you. Kissing you again as you stroke him through your folds, slick with sweat and your own arousal. You’re moaning into his kiss, as his tongue presses, desperate as your own.

He reaches to the nightstand, drawer already open from the last condom you’d fished from there. Tugging it open with his teeth, it falls from the wrapper and onto your chest in his haste. You abandon your stroking of him, only long enough to slip it over his dick yourself.

Before you know it, his hands have found your wrists, pulling you from your teasing of him to press them into the sheets of his bed. His fingers intertwine with your own, as he drags his hips with yours to slip himself through your folds, and you bite back the whine in your throat.

Peter leans back, looking down and between you at the sight, and you arch into him for more.

“Hey, uh,” he stammers, brow furrowing with the concentration it takes to clear his head long enough to even speak, “don’t hold back like you usually do.” When he glances back up, you can barely breathe at the fire in his eyes, “I want to hear everything, okay? All of your moans,” his lips brush your jaw, kissing down your neck and getting just what he wants when he brushes that spot he knows drives you crazy, “I want to hear you scream.”

“ _Fuck_ , Pete, yeah, alright,” you mewl, dazed with his words and the arousal it stirs within you. You were going to have a heart attack at this rate.

His hands squeeze yours, as he splits you open with the pink tip of his length, and you hook your legs into his hips. The feeling still steals every last bit of air from your lungs, and you know you were going to be wearing a scarf tomorrow with the way his teeth dig into your throat to bury his own moans there. Your grip at his hands is all you have to ground yourself, as he rolls his hips once to bottom out within you with a shiver down his spine.

You were such a mess, but you were even, because he was, too.

It sounds strangled, as he gasps when you clench around him, where he’s filled you up, “You’re so _tight_ — I can’t—” You rake your nails down his back, and he snaps his hips back against you, drawling an involuntary sound, crawling up the back of your throat, as he promises, “I’m gonna’ give it to you _so hard_.” Peter’s hands abandon yours to slip to your waist, arms wrapping around you to hoist your bottom half off the bed to meet his next thrust, and you whimper openly at the feeling. He looks down at you, dark brown hair filtering the sunlight against his lashes as it falls over his face, as his pace starts slow, but hits you deep and hard each time, “You drive me absolutely, _fucking_ , insane.”

You have no choice but to reach for his shoulders, completely at the mercy of his strength and the damnable heat that nothing can seem to stave off, “Pete— Peter— _god_ , just like that— you do me so good—” You yelp as he shifts, holding you up with one arm as the other digs into the mattress, leveraging himself to hit you harder, pace picking up as he grips you tight, needy groan falling from his tongue.

He rips a scream from your throat, and you’re barely coherent.

You’ve both gotten so much better at this, since the start of the summer.

You can barely hold onto him, slick with the dampness of your saliva and sweat, as each thrust has you dripping onto the sheets, toes curling when he hits you just right. He pushes you into the mattress, pace sloppy and desperate as he kisses you, devouring you with his body, and you think you’re on the verge of a heat stroke with how your heart pounds in your ears.

He growls your name on your tongue, voice strained, “You’re gonna’ make me cum— I’m gonna’ cum—”

You clench around him, as hard as you can think to, and he collapses onto you with the force of it, gripping you hard as you feel him twitch within you. But the sounds he makes, nearly send you over the edge, as he fucks you through his orgasm.

Peter comes crashing down, breathless and gasping, as he kisses you. His hand slips between you, fingertips rolling along your clit in the immediate aftermath of his release, and you trip into your own. It sneaks up on you, regardless of how close you had been, as your lungs clamp down on thin air, blinded by the stars in your eyes. He whines, oversensitive enough already without the intense spasming of your walls around him, before you come down to the overwhelmingly empty feeling of him slipping from you.

He’s panting, just as hard as you, when he knots the condom and tosses it into the bin nearby the bed.

You reach for him, and he tugs you to meet him in a slower kiss, despite the simmering lust that still clouded both your minds. Stroking down your thighs before finding his grip on them, he rolls to drape you over his chest.

Leaning back slightly, you look down to catch the way his eyes roam down your body. The boy was insatiable.

“You know,” you sigh, slipping your fingers along his chest, and knowing you were going to need something to help you cool down, before he tugged you back into bed with him again, “I could go for one of those popsicles, right about now.”

“Okay, I’ll go grab us some,” slipping from beneath you, you enjoy the view as Peter walks towards the door to his bedroom. He had the evidence, marred in beginning bruises along his neck, down the side of his torso, and you bite your amusement at your lip.

“Oh, and Peter?” you call, catching his attention as he raises a brow back at you with an inquisitive hum. “Bring us some ice, too.”


End file.
